


i know nothing of your taste (and now speak up, lover)

by mustardbastard



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: ;), Angst, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Drinking to Cope, Ed is Mean in this, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Love, and sinks ships, booze loosens lips, id say sorry roy but im really not, there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 00:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardbastard/pseuds/mustardbastard
Summary: This is not the first time Roy has caught Edward taking refuge in the bottom of a bottle.





	i know nothing of your taste (and now speak up, lover)

**Author's Note:**

> GOD ok so I actually started this in like.... late june, wrote maybe a couple hundred words & just. abandoned it. BUT THEN I GOT REINSPIRED FOR IT SO YEEHAW.
> 
> i'm not kidding when I say there's no happy ending (for royed at least) & that it's hurt no comfort. pls be warned & take care.
> 
> this is like.... half beta-read? shout-out & giant thanks to my lovely Angst Wife, Mox, for reading it when it was still a WIP & helping me with some dialogue choices. (& thank u to my other lovely Angst Wife, Bella, for all ur screaming at me abt it) <33 hopefully everything I wrote after the point y'all read up to isn't a giant fuckin mess lol
> 
> title taken from Lydia's 'your taste is my attention' which is absolutely one of my fave songs pls go listen to it
> 
> anyway i'll shut up now bc I need to sleep bc work in the morning (RIP) so have fun! hope u guys enjoy!! <3

This is not the first time Roy has caught Edward taking refuge in the bottom of a bottle. 

And Roy is certain it won't be the last.

But it is the first time that Roy has been able to hear Edward say anything about what's plaguing him― _ not _ that it makes much sense, without any context; not yet, at least. 

Ed's hand is wrapped around the neck of a bottle of scotch―one, Roy notes, that he himself is familiar with, much like he is familiar with playing both roles of the scene in front of him. Ed's grip appears loose, lazily relaxed and resting on the glass, but Roy knows that if anyone were to attempt to remove the bottle from his grasp, they'd find it vise-like and impossible to move. 

Ed's head is propped up on his other arm, resting on the surface of his desk, and he makes no acknowledgement that he knows Roy is there. Ed has eyes only for the bottle―Roy wonders if he even sees that or if Ed is too lost in memories and a drunken haze. 

The incessant muttering seems to be an unconscious reaction to the booze; what little Roy can understand of Ed’s words doesn’t say much, but he knows that it’s more than what Ed would voluntarily divulge if given the choice.

“The same fucking face… disgusting… can’t believe… love both of them…”

Roy stills.

He’s not foolish enough to believe that Edward has never loved someone, not when he was gone for  _ years, _ growing older in a world Roy can only imagine. The Ed that returned was not the same Ed that disappeared all those years ago. But hearing it from Ed’s lips is different than imagining it in an abstract way. It makes it  _ real, _ and it hurts more than Roy thought it would. Roy has tamped down on his feelings since before he even had the mind to acknowledge them, has kept them in the bottle of his heart, stopped up and sealed away in the dark, where no one could find them, but the words cause an ache, a crack in the glass. The years in the snow have made his armor frozen. Fragile.

Roy forces himself to breathe, quiet exhale the only other sound in the office aside from Ed’s low voice, and starts to clean up the mess on the desk. Shuffles and organizes papers, dries the puddles of condensation and spilled liquor. He makes to grab the unused glass and is stopped by the feel of Ed’s eyes on him.

Ed is looking up at him, golden eyes filled with startling clarity, and asks, “how sick does a dog have to be before it gets put down?”

Roy isn’t sure how to answer―isn’t sure he  _ wants _ to answer. Because Ed isn’t talking about a canine. He’s spared having to think of a response by Ed speaking again.

“Who am I kidding?” He laughs, a low, bitter thing that Roy is unsettled to hear come from Ed. “You’re probably almost as sick as me.”

“I know not what plagues you, Fullmetal,” Roy says quietly, “but you’re drunk.” Not that that means Ed doesn’t know what he’s saying. Roy’s found that drunk men tend to be the most honest men. And if Edward is being honest, then Roy isn’t enough of a coward to not admit that he fears what Ed means.

Ed scowls, pulling the bottle closer to him. “Ya damn right I am, Captain Obvious.” He takes a swig from the bottle and when he sets it down, the scotch sloshes inside the bottle so violently it would’ve spilled were it not so close to empty. “It’s the only way,” Ed mutters.

Roy sighs. “Alcoholism isn’t the only way to cope. Trust me, I’ve been there enough times.” He shakes his head at Ed’s snort and derisive, “what would  _ you _ know about it, Mustang?” electing to not respond. This isn’t the time for such a conversation. Not when he won’t take Roy seriously. Not when he likely won’t even remember this in the morning.

He walks around to the other side of the desk, intending to pull Edward up and help him home. He’s reminded of the times Maes used to be in his place and Roy in Ed’s, and he aches, yearns for that which he can never get back. He never meant for things to end up this way. But the past cannot be changed and the only thing to do is move forward. Ishbal, and Ed as well, taught him that.

Roy doesn’t get very far in his goal, however. He’s reaching out to slide Ed’s arm over his shoulders when Ed grabs Roy by his collar, yanking him down.

The feel of Ed’s lips on his is  _ scalding. _ It’s a burning delight that hurts almost as much as it assuages. Roy’s never let himself imagine what it would feel like to kiss Ed, never let himself have even that much, and he feels himself drowning. Roy’s free hand comes up to cup Ed’s face, sliding back into his hair. He’s lost in the sensation, sinking further and further, and it’s only Ed speaking that douses the fire taking over his mind.

“Does my brother taste sweet on my lips?” Ed murmurs against Roy's. It’s like a bucket of ice being poured down Roy’s spine. He stiffens, pulling himself away. He can't bring himself to speak. Not when bile is rising like knives in his throat. 

Ed grins, sick and twisted and  _ sharp. _ A cruel smirk that has no place on Edward’s face. “What’s wrong, Mustang? I thought you liked mutts.”

Roy's voice is tight as he responds, "my preferences aside, I am  _ not _ some rebound, or a desperate enough man to let you use me as one―as a body to warm your bed for the night."

“No, you’re just the bastard who fell for the sick son of a bitch in love with his own brother and the man who wears his face. That makes you just as depraved as me, dontcha think?”

"I―…" Roy starts, "Fullmetal, you don't know what you're talking about." Except Edward does; he  _ knows, _ knows what Roy's been trying to hide all these years and he can't bring himself to deny it. 

Ed snorts. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt." Roy's brows furrow in confusion.  _ Egypt? _ But Ed plunders on without any note. "You think I wouldn't notice you staring all the time? How you refuse to say my name because when you do it comes out too  _ soft?  _ I'm not fucking oblivious."

“What’s the point in all this,  _ Edward?” _ Roy asks in a low voice―measured, controlled, refusing to give even an  _ inch. _ His voice is steady but his hands trembles by his side; he curls them into fists, the stinging pain of his fingernails digging into his palms grounding him. He has to focus on the physical; if he allows himself to dwell too long on the pain that Edward’s words bring, allows himself to feel the  _ anger _ and the  _ fear, _ he doesn’t know what will happen.

“The  _ ‘point’?” _ Ed questions, choking on a mirthless laugh. “The fucking  _ point _ is that I kissed my  _ brother _ and I don’t know if he’ll ever  _ look _ at me again but I can’t regret it.  _ God,  _ I want to regret it but I can’t. I can’t,” Ed finishes in a whisper, hanging his head. The picturesque image of a repentant man. 

Roy sighs, letting his fists unclench. The trickling burn tells him he’s probably bleeding, skin broken as he is, but he pays it no heed. His gaze strays towards the bottle on the desk. Ed must be more intoxicated than Roy had originally realized, if he’s revealing so much. Or perhaps the burden of his sins, the weight of his transgressions, has just become too much to bear and Roy is his confessional.

He’s… surprisingly  _ un _ surprised to hear who exactly is the recipient of Edward’s feelings. The Elrics’ bond and devotion to each other has always been strong, stronger than the steel that makes up Ed’s automail, stronger than that of any other siblings that Roy knows. It does not shock him, to find out that Edward’s love for Alphonse goes beyond that of a traditional nature. Saddens, yes. Pains, of course. Because they will never have it easy, should anyone find out. But shock? No. Roy has always known that nothing could get in between the two brothers, not even death itself. In a way, it seems only natural that their relationship would develop like this.

“Come on, you can’t stay here,” Roy says, pulling an unresisting Ed up and supporting him. Roy would be tempted to just leave him here, let him spend the night in the office and deal with the consequences tomorrow, but he’s not cruel enough to want to see Ed suffer. Even when he feels like he’s bleeding out from the inside, wounded by him, Roy only wants the best for Edward. And Ed shouldn’t be alone right now.

Ed’s momentary lucidity seems to have faded away, along with all the fight in him. He mumbles, but it’s too low for Roy to catch more than “bastard” and “Al”. Roy shifts, tightening his hold to better keep Ed upright. It’s a slow shuffle to the barracks where Ed lives with Alphonse; thankfully, it’s late at night so the halls are clear of others. Roy doesn’t think he has the capacity to smooth-talk a believable excuse right now.

It’s not until they’re almost at Edward’s door that he speaks again. What he says chills Roy to the bone.

“Yanno, I could’ve been killed over there, for the way I am.” Ed softly snorts into Roy’s shoulder, head having lolled to the side. “‘S’ why I never told Alfons how I…”

It pains him to hear― _ what _ sort of world would kill someone for who they love? But Roy thinks of Amestris, of the orchestrated slaughter of thousands of innocents, and he knows that the universe is not kind, that humans will commit atrocities no matter what world they may be in. 

Roy thinks he might understand what Ed’s been grappling with a little better now. He allows himself a brief moment of sorrow, then speaks. 

“I cannot speak to how your brother feels, Edward. But I know that Alphonse loves you dearly, that you’re the most important thing in the world to him. I don’t believe he would begrudge you this. Talk to him.”

Ed mutters something in response and Roy shakes his head at his stubbornness. They’ll work it out somehow, they always do. Careful not to jostle Ed too much, Roy reaches forward and knocks on the door.

It takes but a moment for the door to be flung open by a wide-eyed, obviously worried― _ frantic _ ―Alphonse. 

He cries out his brother’s name, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Alphonse glances at Roy, and apologizes. “I’m so sorry about my idiot brother.  _ Thank you _ for bringing him home. I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Trouble?  _ Hah. _ Roy almost laughs. Trouble doesn't even come close. But under Alphonse’s pleading, rueful gaze, Roy can’t be honest. “What happened is none of my business, but you should talk  _ with _ your brother, Alphonse. Hear Ed out, at least. The both of you deserve that much.”

Alphonse bites his lip worriedly, staring at Ed. “You’re right… Thanks again, Colonel.”

“Think nothing of it,” Roy replies, transferring a limp Ed into Alphonse’s grasp. “Just make sure you both get some rest tonight.” Alphonse’s grip tightens around Ed, a drowning man hanging onto his last―his  _ only _ lifeline. “Good night Alphonse. Remember,  _ talk _ to him.”

Alphonse nods, never looking away from his brother. “I will. Good night, Colonel.” His expression is inscrutable as he closes the door. Shutting Roy out. It’s only a door, only a dorm, but Roy cannot help but feel as if it’s an all-too-literal metaphor.

He stays for a moment longer, standing in the hall, silently gazing at the door. Wordlessly mourning what was never to happen; allowing the ache in his chest to throb with pain, before he buries it. Cauterizes the wound and buries it far down, deep beneath the dirt and bone and sinew of his heart.

This will never be spoken of.

And Roy won’t let himself dream of Edward ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr at mvstardbastard!!
> 
> & as always, kudos/comments/screaming/etc are appreciated & help Fuel me!! but Def not required!  
<333


End file.
